Always Power
by FeelingCrossToday
Summary: A drabble collection looking at Louis Weasley's life as a Slytherin. Written for The Title Challenge on the HPFC Forum.
1. Chapter 1

**This was written for lowi's The Title Challenge on the HPFC Forum.**  
><strong>I was given 'Louis Weasley' and the title had to be 'Always Power', so I decided to make him a Slytherin and go from there. More than anything else, this is to satisfy all the headcanon that sprung from that thought. I was given prompts too, but they'll be used in later drabbles.<strong>

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><p>He was trembling when the hat slipped over his eyes.<p>

"You're a Weasley," the sorting hat told him. "You're fun-loving and roguish; that's obvious."

Louis relaxed.

"But-"

Oh, Merlin, why did there have to be a but? Louis gripped the edges of the stool.

"-you know how to get what you want. And you won't stand for injustice."

Louis wasn't quite sure he was still listening after that. He just knew, Merlin, knew that if he wasn't in Gryffindor he didn't, Merlin, he couldn't, and his father, what would his father, Merlin, he couldn't-

"SLYTHERIN!"


	2. Chapter 2

_Slytherin._

Louis could hear his heart throwing itself against his rib cage.

_Slytherin._

He could feel his blood throbbing through every centimetre of his body.

_Slytherin._

His Slytherin body.

_Slytherin._

He'd failed.

_Slytherin._

He was dimly aware that he had to take off the hat. Take off the hat and face them. Face them as a Slytherin.

_Slytherin._

Louis could hardly tell whether his vision was blurred with tears as his fingers shook and he tried to remove the hat from his head, but either way the colours and the excitement and the cheering were a shock after the dark leather of the hat. The cheering. Why were they still cheering? He must've been sitting there for years since the Sorting Hat had told everyone that the first Weasley Slytherin had arrived at Hogwarts.

He put the hat back on the stool and stumbled over to the Slytherin table. His table. He was a Slytherin.

And he looked up, and there were his sisters on the opposite side of the hall, looking at him, and Louis thought it wouldn't have been half as bad if he'd kept his head down.


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh oops, this thing. This was so fun to write though idec. There was a prompt for this, which was 'string'.**

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><p>"Victoire, take zat infernal string away from Louis. 'E is going to strangle 'imself soon."<p>

"Mummy, he likes playing with it."

"Well, 'e will not like playing wiz it when it is stopping 'im breathing."

Fleur pulled Louis onto her lap and prized a strand of string from his fingers. She unwound some more from around his ear and fished the end from his back pocket. Louis remained silent while his mother kissed him and deposited him on the carpet. Nothing more than a doleful look marked the loss of the toy he had been playing with for the past afternoon.

"Victoire, can you roll it all into a ball, please? I'm going to cook dinner. Be'ave yourselves."

"How come _I_have to do it?!" Victoire moaned.

"I am giving you the responsibility of your little brother, Victoire, but it means you 'ave to clear away after him." Fleur placated her daughter from the door.

"How come _she_gets the responsibility?!" Dominique shouted indignantly at the doorframe her mother was no longer standing in.

"Ok, Louis-pie," Victoire cooed. "I'm tidying the string away now. It was fun to play with, wasn't it!" She poked Louis playfully in the tummy.

"You have to be _careful_with him, Victoire," Dominique was keen to point out.

"I _know_," Victoire retorted, unravelling the haystack of string her brother had left behind.

"Vic-Vic?" Louis whimpered.

"Yes, Lou-Lou?" Victoire replied, instantly bending over him.

"Dom-Dom?"

"What is it Lou-Lou?" Dominique was by his side in under a second.

"Sting."

"What, Louis?"

"What?"

"Sting."

"Here's your string Louis," Dominique said, smiling and handing him a great tangle of the stuff.

"No, Dom, Mummy said to take it away," Victoire chided. Then she turned to Louis with a voice of honey and said: "Sorry, Louis, you can't have it."

"Vic-Vic? Sting. Sting, Vic-Vic."

Louis looked at his oldest sister and started to cry.

"Sting!"

Louis had perfected his technique. His wailing built both in volume and frequency every second Victoire hesitated. His eyes alternated carefully between bestowing a gratifying look on Dominique, screwing themselves up in agony and reprimanding Victoire. Each sob promised the smiles, the happiness and the unadulterated adoration Victoire would receive if she only favoured her brother's wishes over her mother's.

"Here's your string, Louis!"


End file.
